


the worst hasn't happened yet

by erintoknow



Series: Aria-Rough Drafts [56]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/F, Intimacy, Kissing, Love, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Reveal, Smut, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 00:31:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20106193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: If this supposed to be so good, why hasn't it stopped yet? Somebody believing in you... has anything ever been that painful?





	1. Jump

**Author's Note:**

> Following immediately off of [I Don't Mind]

The two of you sit there on the floor, legs splayed, foreheads pressed together. You’re in your bra and leggings. She’s fully dressed. The light is still on.

_There’s_ a switch.

She sees you and she’s still here. You’re still here. The two of you together, here, on the floor of her apartment. She pulls her head back, and now she _really_ sees you. She puts a hand on your face, thumbs away a tear and you can’t not crack a smile. “Jesus, Julia–“ your breath catches in your throat as she lets her eyes wander down your front. “Don’t– don’t look at me like that.”

Julia’s eyes dart back up to meet yours, “Like what?” There’s that familiar smug grin tugging at her lips. “Like you’re beautiful?”

You turn your head away and groan, “You’re such a cornball.” Feel your checks color as you glance back at her, “and I’m not.” You lean back away from her, jab at the orange lines marring your skin through the network of scars. “I’m ugly. Hideous. A fake. Fake woman. Fake person. That’s like…” You scrunch up your face. “Fake squared.”

Ortega looks at you, and you fidget under her gaze. Her thoughts shrouded under that maddening static. Finally, she says, “Do you think _I’m_ pretty?”

“W-what?” You blink at her, “I– I– I– mean, you’re uh, you’re–” The way she’s looking at you… you can’t bring yourself to wield the trusty old barb and you wilt.

“Yes.” You whisper the word, lean back in towards her, “You’re the most beautiful person I know Julia…”

There’s a glow in her face as soon as you say the words and Julia wraps her arms around you, pulling you in against her. “I’m not exactly a Vogue Cover Girl either, you know?”

You stiffen. It’s true, you suppose. Julia’s no waifish model: taller then a decent chunk of men, well toned, her own -albeit better treated then yours- network of scars, to say nothing of the mods that have defined her life. A network of metal and lightning no more escapable than your own tattoos. _More_ inescapable, perhaps, if one of your long term projects pans out.

It occurs to you, that somehow, you’re closer to that Cover Girl ‘ideal’ then she is.

Huh.

That’s a weird thought.

But still– “That’s– that’s different.” You protest.

“Maybe,” she concedes, “but I doubt it.”

“So…” you can feel that pressure behind your eyes, the pained tightness of your throat. “So what– then? We just keep telling each other ‘your pretty’ over and over?” Your laugh sounds bitter, even to you. “That’s absurd.”

There’s a lilt to Julia’s voice, “Is it really so bad?”

“Or-Ortega. If you call me pretty in public I will die on the spot. That. Is. A. Promise.”

“That so? I’ll keep that one in my back pocket then.”

“H-hey, that’s not what I–” You huff and give up, let your head rest in the crook of her neck. God, is it weird to like how she smells? You don’t know. It’s not like you’ve ever talked about this kind of thing and you’re not about to give Julia even more ammo right now.

“You know,” there’s that lilt again, “there’s other ways we can show it.”

“Like what? Holding hands?”

“Ari.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “A gentlemanly pat on the back?”

“Ari!”

“A loving bro-fist pound?”

Julia laughs, the prettiest sound in the world, and she pulls you over to the floor with you, rolling until you’re on your back with her staring down at you, her arms on either side, her leg straddling you. “Ariadne Becker, you _know_ what I mean.”

“Me? I’m afraid not, Julia. I am just a simple machine.” You can’t help it, actually being able to tease her like this is too much fun.

Ortega rolls her eyes, “A machine for having feelings maybe.”

That gets an honest laugh out of you. “Yeah. Yeah, oh– _god,_ maybe.”

“Alright, well. What kind of output does _this_ get me?” Julia dips down and plants a quick kiss on your lips. You knew it was coming but it still gets you by surprise.

“I– I don’t know.” Your voice is shaky. “Insufficient data.”

Julia looks down at you through hooded eyes and you can feel a warmth wash over you. “Guess we’ll just have to do more tests.”

You stare back up at her, heart pounding. “You– you still want to– I mean– after everything?”

“Well… _yeah_.” Julia grins. “Maybe now… now I can actually get to see you…?”

“Oh.” You shift under her gaze, bite your lip. “I– I– guess….?” You’d given anything to get out from under her right now. You’d give everything to stay here for forever.

“We don’t have to, you know.” Julia leans back on her legs, still straddling your waist. She’s practically resting on your hips, and _that_ is proving demanding on your attention. “Lights on, or doing it all. I want you to be comfortable.”

“I’m… I’m still get used to that idea.” You admit.

“What? Being comfortable?”

“That– that someone cares.” Why is telling the truth suddenly so addictive? Each time you do it, you feel compelled to do it again. You keep expecting to hit the ground, and it keeps not happening. “That– that– that– anyone cares. That _you_ care.”

“Ari…” There’s a… not pity, but a sadness around Julia’s eyes.

“I’m Adrestia.” You blurt out, and then you can feel the color drain out of you.

The confession knocks the wind out Julia. She physically pulls back, just for a moment, but it’s there, undeniable. When she recovers it becomes your turn to have the breath knocked out of you. “I know.” She says.

“I–” Panic runs through you, nailing you to the floor. “How’d you–?”

“You aren’t nearly as good at hiding things as you think you are, you know.” She leans down, caresses your face. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

You flinch under her touch. “But that’s– I mean I’ve, I’ve hurt you. I literally put you in the hospital even.”

Ortega nods. “And you broke Danny’s leg.”

“I possessed Argent.”

“And then lied to us while pretending to help.”

“I stole a box of nanovores.”

Ortega blinks rapidly in surprise. “_Shit_. Really?”

“They’re neutered. They can’t make more themselves. Or target carbon. N–never again.”

“That’s…”

“There’s more. A lot more. It’s complicated. Ortega… I’m a bad person.” You look away from her, stare across the floor at the distant wall instead. “You _shouldn’t_ love me.”

When Ortega talks again her voice is quiet. “You’re still going to therapy, right?”

You nod.

“You’re _actually_ helping Danny train, right? Not just messing with him?”

Again, you nod.

“Is it true, Adrestia’s only been robbing from other villains?”

“I– I already know how to fight them, it… it feels less bad to go after them.”

“Ari… _why_ are you doing this?”

“I…” your voice hitches, caught in your throat. You want to spill it out, lay out everything, but it’s too much. Everything that happened, always too much. “I– I want to tell you but– but– but I can’t.”

Ortega runs a hand down your shoulder, her expression pained. “_Try_. For me?”

You open your mouth, try again, shudder. “They…” You swallow, it hurts. “They wouldn’t let me die.”

There’s naked worry and guilt in Ortega’s eyes now. “Ariadne–“

You cut her off before she can say anything more. “I tried. I tried so hard to be good. To do the right thing. To be human. All I ever wanted – To be a normal human girl. But then I–” You choke; a laugh or a sob, or both, you’re not sure. “I never could be that, could I?” You’re babbling now, you know it, but you can’t stop. Don’t want to stop. “It’s impossible for me. It was never an option. And then– then the apartment and it– it got it’s twisted hands on me and something, something just _broke_ in me Julia. I’m broken. Even when they scraped me off the road and stitched me back together I stayed broken, and they–“ You pause, suck in a breath of air. You’re shaking, you’re shaking under her, and you grab her hands in yours, hold them tight. “_they wouldn’t let me die_. No matter what they did to me. Or what I did to– to myself.”

“The scars are your arms…”

“You noticed those…?” You blink your eyes, you’re all cried out at this point. Exhausted.“Those are… before I figured out bruises would be less messy.”

Ortega exhales the air out of her lungs in a long, slow breath. “_Fuck, _Ari.”

“Thinking about– dreaming about someday getting back at them– Julia, it’s the only thing that’s kept me going. They– they’re the goddamn government and they need to be stopped.”

“And I work for the government.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why you never came to me.”

“I– they also… spent a lot of time explaining how you– how you never cared about me.”

That gets Ortega to lean back, close her eyes, rub her eyes, pinch her nose. You watch her chest rise and fall in unsteady breaths. Finally she says, in a strained voice: “I literally can’t afford to quit the Rangers, you know.”

That throws you off. “I– no, no I didn’t know that.”

“All this hardware they shoved in me… they practically own my life.” Julia pulls her hand away from her face, blinks her eyes, looks down at you and tries to smile. It’s a brittle expression. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen.”

You wait there, silent. If she tells you to turn yourself in, you realize, you’ll do it. It’ll mean the death of you, but you’ll do it.

“I’m _not_ going to arrest you.”

Okay.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at that.

“But you’re not off the hook, miss.” She jabs your chest with a finger. “I’m appointing myself your parol officer. You start going off the deep end; people start getting hurt again, I am going to hunt you down and drag your pretty little ass to jail myself. You understand?”

You absolutely do not understand what’s happening right now, but you nod your head anyway.

“You _are_ going to keep going to therapy.”

She pokes you again, and you nod.

“No more screening my calls. I call, you answer. If you can’t, you better have a damn good reason.”

You nod.

“Finally, you’re going to keep me in the loop on every future move you’re planning. I reserve veto power.”

You tilt your head, “W-wait– you’re not telling me to– to stop?”

When Julia sighs it’s with her whole body in a tired resignation. “Things need to change. You got that much right, but– I promised I would save you, remember? I should’ve known that one of the people I would have to save you from would be yourself.”

You look up at her, eyes wide. “Does that– does that make us partners? In crime?”

Julia glares at you, pokes you in the chest again. “Don’t push your luck.”

You must be losing it at this point because under your breath you whisper: “Be gay, do crimes.”

Ortega blinks, and tries to keep her composure. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“I’m serious Ariadne!” She rubs her forehead. “Promise me. This is the only way this is going to work.”

You close your eyes, tilt your head back against the floor. “I promise.” You let the moment hang there. Then: “Do you… do you still love me?”

“Ariadne–”

“BecauseI’dunderstandifyoudon’t.” You take a breath, for yourself to slow down. “Because you really shouldn’t.”

There’s a silence that stretches out after that like a canyon. You open your eyes, just wait there, bracing yourself for what the response you know is coming. You don’t deserve her. An hour’s delusion to the contrary was nice, but that was all the more reason why you needed to stamp it down quick.

You feel her shift on top of you and then, her lips are on your neck, and you suck in your breath. Try to move your head and she shifts to give you a peck on the lips, inviting you to deepen things further. Which you do, intimately aware of every point of contact against your thin, too-chapped lips. You shift your arms, find hers braced to either side of you, holding her up and your hands follow them up to her shoulders.

When Julia pulls away for air, she smiles. “Does that answer you question?”

You bite your lip. “I– I dunno. I think I need more data.”


	2. Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost completely gratuitous smut, what can i say in my defense except nothing

You let your hands run down her sides to the hem of her shirt. You glance up at her and she smiles in reassurance. God, you always manage to have the most fucked-up relationships you think as you slide your hands up under her shirt. She obligingly raises her arms, and when you can’t reach any higher from your position still pinned on her living room floor, Julia finishes the job and tosses her shirt aide. It’s one thing for her to strip from the safety of half a room away, but you’re so close now. In the light, even.

You lick your lips, you can still taste her earlier kiss. “Do– do you want to… uh, somewhere more comfortable than the floor?”

“The bedroom?” Julia’s voice practically purrs.

“S-sure.”

Julia moves off of you and you move to get to your feet. Before you know what’s happening, you feel hands on your back and knees and you’ve swept up into Julia’s arms. You cry out in surprise until you can steady yourself with arm behind Julia’s back. “You good?” She asks.

“Peachy.” You squeak.

Julia Ortega is physically carrying you through her apartment. Julia Ortega is physically carrying you, bridal style, through her apartment to her bedroom. You can feel your heart pounding in you throat, ears. How did you manage to trick this woman into a relationship with you? What did you do right? You don’t understand it, but – for once, just let it be Ariadne. Be grateful.

You nestle your head against hers, enjoy the physical closeness. It doesn’t last.

But only because she drops you on the bed. You bounce, even, as you sink into the duvet cover. Julia closes the door behind her and then pauses with her hand on the light switch. “Lights?”

You look up at her, terror building in your chest. You you suck in your lips, try to steady your heart rate. “I– I– I’m good.”

“You ever change your mind, just say so.”

You nod.

Julia steps away from the wall, then smirks at you. “You want to help with the rest of this?” She gestures at her clothes and you feel lightheaded. In the dark, where you can’t see is one thing but…

Julia must have taken your hesitation as a no, because she goes ahead with stripping down without you. You watch from the bed as she pulls down her pants, then undoes her bra. You avert your gaze before the white cups give away. Why are you like this? Were you… programed to be this bashful or did you somehow pick it up somewhere?

The bed shifts under you as Julia climbs on. You automatically look up and get an eyeful of her anyway, and _god_ she’s beautiful. It’s too much, you have to go on the offensive somehow before she overwhelms you completely. “H-hi Sparkles.”

That gets her to stop dead in her tracks. She raises her eyebrows at you. “Now _that’s_ a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”

“Still just– just as pretty, old lady.” You’re practically vibrating. She’s looking at you. God, she’s looking at _you_.

“Flattery will get you everywhere you know.” She’s on her knees beside you, hands in range of your legs. She looks at you, poised. “Can I?”

You nod. Suck in your breath as she reaches up, around you, tugs at your waistband. You obligingly lift you butt so she can tug the stretch black fabric down, until at least, the too-pale skin of your legs is completely exposed. Still marred by those inescapable orange lines. Looking down at yourself, you feel faint. Queasy.

“Feel any different?” Julia’s watching you. Jesus, you could almost believe she actually finds you attractive.

“Nauseous.” You admit. “Seeing myself is… hard.”

“Then focus on me, okay? Do you want to stop? Turn the lights off?”

You don’t even have to think about it, you shake your head. “I– I want to– It’s just… It’s hard. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Her hand brushes your bare leg and if you died right now, you’d be okay with that being the last thing you felt. “Try not to throw up on my bed at least, okay?” She gives you a smile. “Or me?”

You laugh, “I can try.” It occurs to you that the two of you are at unequal footing in the clothes department still. You lean forward and reach back with your arms to try and undo your bra clasp. But your hands are shaking, and god this is humiliating.

Julia laughs, a soft, musical sound and she leans in, arms behind you. “I can do it.”

“I’ve got it,” you protest. But of course, the clasp undoes itself instantly for her, the clothing Houdini. You let her pull your bra away, and you have to fight the urge to cover your chest. Again, that compulsion, is it programmed or learned? Where? It’s not like you were ‘trained’ on how to act like a woman. You’ve had to make it up as you go.

“You’re pretty.” Julia whispers, and you can feel your heart skip. She’s just… she’s just saying that right? Because she knows what you think about yourself, you just told her.She leans in to you, gives you a peck on cheek. “I mean it.”

“Wh-how’d you–?”

“I don’t need to be a telepath to read your face, Ari.”

That does it, why you don’t know, don’t understand, but it pushes you over the edge and you reach over to kiss Julia back. Let your hands run over her skin, bury your face in her chest as she pulls you in against her.

You let her turn you around so you back is pressed against her chest, and her arms can reach around and cup your breasts. They seem so disproportionately small in comparison to Julia’s. It doesn’t seem to stop Julia though. She thumbs over your nipples, sending a shiver of goosebumps over your skin. “That– That–”

“You okay?”

“It’s n-nice?”

That only encourages her to do it again. You press back against her in response, a growing warmth building up under Julia’s hands. “How are– how are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m enjoying myself.” Julia responds before nipping your ear and you don’t need a mirror to know your face has gone bright scarlet.

You squirm under her hands, turn yourself back around. “You’re always the one taking the lead.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, ever again with that smug smirk. “Oh?”

Hands are shaking but you touch her regardless, watch the impressions your finger make on her skin, her breasts. It’s not exactly like you haven’t done this before. Just.. could never see what you were doing. What translated to what. Julia puts her hands down, leaning back while you run your hands over her skin. You try to tease things to attention, ‘try’ being the operative word. Whatever scraps of confidence you might have gathered in the dark has completely deserted you out here. “I… have no idea what I’m doing.” You admit.

Julia shifts her legs then takes your hands in hers, guides you over her body. “Try here,” she says. “And here.” She adds. This time you can see the immediate change in reaction on her face as you touch her. It’s not unlike giving a message really. Just.. in different places. You lean in, and, chickening out at the last second kiss the top of her breast.

Her hand runs through your hair and she laughs. “You’re precious.”

You huff. “I’m trying, okay?” You catch her hand with your own before she can pull you in again. Entwine your fingers together. “I– I– I want to be able to make you feel good too.” You suck in air, blow it out again. “God knows you deserve it.”

Julia laughs again, “I’m not sure I want God to know what I’m up to in the bedroom.”

You blanche, “Oh, I didn’t– I didn’t mean–“

She puts a finger over your lips. “You’re _fine_. Relax, okay?” She grins at you again, “We still all good here?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Still good on the lights?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to try something new?” She gives you sideways look that makes your stomach flip.

“New?” You let Julia pull away from you, watch her reach for something under the bed. It takes a bit of patting around before she pulls out a box.

She holds it up and shakes it and you can hear… something rattle inside. “Know what it is?”

You look at her wide-eyed. “Fuck Julia, you’re the sexpert here.”

She giggles at that, doubling over. “Yeah. Sure. Okay. Anyway, I thought of getting this after… you know, our ‘first’ time.” She slides her finger under the box lid and pops it open, pulling out a–

“That’s a strap-on.” You say, deadpan.

Julia snickers. “Where’s the cute innocent act now?”

“I– I’m traumatized, not innocent.” You flounder.

Julia’s expression falls. “If you ever want to–“

“No.” You cut her off. “I’ve had enough sobbing confessions to last for seven years.” You close your eyes. “I gotta leave some mystery to keep you interested, right?

“Okay.”

You fall back onto the bed. “Did I just kill the mood again?”

“Do you want to keep going?”

You cover your face with your hands. “You’re going make me say it?”

“Every time, Ariadne.”

You shift your hand to cover your mouth so she can’t see your smile. “Do I have to?”

“Every time, Ariadne.”

You breath out. The way she says your name, sings it almost, like you could still belong even after everything that’s happened. “Yeah, I want to keep going.”

“Want to take to take this bad boy for a test run?”

You groan, feel too warm, a little faint. “Only if you’re driving.”

“Better start revving the car then.”

Julia laughs at her own joke and you have to hold out a hand to stop her. “I am officially putting a moratorium on any and all metaphors.”

“Alright.” You can hear her move about the room, shifting herself. But you can’t bring yourself to break this staring contest with the ceiling. It’s gonna blink any second. “So you want me to fuck you, right?” She purrs the last word and you can feel that warmth in the base of your soul again.

“God. Jesus Christ. Fuck. _I guess!_” You kick your legs in the air while Julia laughs. An hand catches your ankle and you still. Open your eyes, look up at her. It’s a good thing you’re already laying down.

She runs a hand up your leg, traces the bone of your hip to catch the edge of the fabric of your underwear. “We okay to take these off?”

You take a breath. “I– Okay.” You squeak. “Sure.” You add, for clarity.

“If you’re ever uncomfortable, we can stop…”

“It’s fine.”

You try to calm yourself down as curious fingers pull down at your underwear, lift yourself up to ease things along. This is fine. This normal. This is a thing that Normal People do. You can do it too, it’s Fine. And then they’re gone, and it’s just you, exposed completely, and you don’t want to look down. Don’t want to look, don’t want to see. “Well–” Your voice hitches, “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Ariadne, you’re fine.” There’s a hand on your leg. “You look fine. More than fine.”

“You– you’re biased.”

That gets a laugh. “I should hope so! I’m your girlfriend.”

You think about this. “I… I guess I can accept this.”

That gets you a smack on the thigh. More like a tap, really. “You can accept more than that.”

“_Jesus Christ_ Julia.” You’re already clutching at the bedsheets just from her pushing your legs open, trying to ground yourself. Her hands run over you, the warm-up work, _that_ you’re familiar with at this point. It’s enough to get you to shorten your breathing.

“You’re just ready to go today, aren’t you?” Julia teases.

You hiss. “Can you blame me?”

“Well, you did have to look at me all day, so no, I suppose I can’t.” She rans a hand over your side, tracing circles on your stomach. You try not to shiver.

“Julia, you smug ass, just…”

“Get on with it?” She says, innocently.

You grit your teeth. “_Please_.”

She pushes into you slow. It’s a strange feeling, slightly slippery from lube, which you suppose is a good thing? Is this how ‘normal’ – you correct yourself, ‘cis’ women feel? But it can’t be. Completely different… systems. You shut your eyes. Don’t think about it. Don’t think. Don’t over-analyze everything. Breath out, just be.

You’re not a computer chip, you’re not a brain, you’re a body entire. A body getting fucked in the ass by her girlfriend, her hands on your hips, singing your name. She’s forever tied you to this identity. One red string you’ll have around your finger until the day you die. And that’s okay. You’re okay with that.

You’ve hurt her, you’ve let her down. And she’s… not forgiven you, exactly, which is good because you don’t deserve that. But is willing to work with you. Julia. Julia Ortega. Julia ‘Charge’ Ortega. You’d die for her if she asked. It’d wouldn’t even be difficult.

But she’s asking something much harder of you instead: To live. To face consequence. To make amends.

You don’t want to let her down. Not again.

You look up at her, try to smile, but it’s a little hard to focus. Moan out her name. “God, Julia…”

She laughs, eases up a little, “Got something to say?”

“Yeah.” You pant, try to gather your wits, falter for a moment. “You’re… your real fucking pretty.”

There’s the crinkle of a smile starting at her eyes, and she looks at you. God, she’s looking at _you_, utter mess that you are, and smiling. Jesus. Fuck. She leans down and plants a kiss on your breast. “You’re pretty gorgeous yourself Ariadne.”


End file.
